


echo through the stars

by blue--phantom (twilightscribe)



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dom/sub, M/M, One Shot, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Prompt Fic, Spanking, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 10:12:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12885669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightscribe/pseuds/blue--phantom
Summary: Wyn teases Magnai one time too many. And where prying ears can hear too. This does not go unpunished.





	echo through the stars

Wyn’s teeth sink into his bottom lip, stifling a whimper. He manages to choke out, “Twe… twelve!”

There’s tears burning at the corners of his eyes and he can taste copper on his tongue. He’s bitten through his lip. Again.

But that doesn’t stop the hand from coming down mercilessly on his rear yet again.

“Th-thirteen!”

The next smack doesn’t come when Wyn expects it to, and he whimpers, hands flexing uselessly in front of him – bound together as they are. Though he yearns to turn his head, to see why his punishment has stopped so suddenly, he knows better than to even attempt to do so. Rather, he tries to focus his gaze on the floor, but it’s gone blurry; he can’t even make out the sight of Magnai’s boot in front of his face.

He’s startled out of his daze by a hand petting through his hair, a warm hand at the base of his neck, and a comforting squeeze. Another hand, callused from years of hard life on the Steppe, caresses his rear, soothing the stinging burn there.

“Shh… it will all be over soon.” Magnai’s voice is soft, soothing.

And Wyn’s able to suck in a deep breath, steadying himself as best he’s able. He had _asked_ for this. It’s his own fault; he got himself into this situation. He can bear the punishment.

Magnai’s voice shifts, turning hard, a breath of steel, “Now keep counting.”

Wyn nods his head, duck is back down as Magnai’s hand comes down on him once more.

“Fourteen!”

It hurts. He’s not going to be sitting comfortably for _days_. His rear burns like it never has before – he had never been punished so as a child – and though Wyn knows that, logically, he could easily fix it, he knows that’s against the rules, unspoken as they are. Twenty strikes seems like too many too him; he can’t imagine taking _more_.

But oh how he _wants_.

It had been a simple tease. He hadn’t… he hadn’t thought… he hadn’t thought he would actually _enjoy_ this as much as he does.

His cock is trapped, hard and leaking, against Magnai’s thigh. Each smack grants him a little sweet friction, a sharp gasp and causing him to stutter as he counts the strikes. His legs are stretched taut, trying to find purchase on the smooth stone floor beneath them, but failing and splaying across the ground.

“F-fifteen!”

Almost there. Only five more to go.

Wyn keens, low in his throat, as his cock throbs in time to the ache in his rear. The stimulation isn’t enough, but too much all at once.

“You do _not_ get release until I will it, Wyn.” Magnai’s voice is a growl, low and dangerous.

He nods his head helplessly, hands clenching into fists as he tries to will down the coil that’s tightening within him. If he can’t… if he can’t obey this simple order, the punishment will be harder. He knows that intrinsically.

But he can’t quite stop the twitch of his hips; the way that they cant up just a little into the next strike.

Maybe he _will_ think a little bit more before he opens his mouth about Magnai and Sadu again. _Maybe_.

Magnai makes it too easy, though. And Wyn realized, quickly, that he had miscalculated. Spectacularly. His teasing had backfired. Majorly.

“Seven – seventeen!”

He’s not sure if he will ever stop shaking. His entire body is trembling violently as Magnai brings his hand down, jerking forward at the sharp sting and slap of a hand on willing – yet very abused – flesh. Wyn’s going to be feeling this for quite some time.

His toes dig into the ground and he drops his head, only to snap it back up a split-moment later.

“Eighteen!”

Each smack is sharp, staccato. Breaking up the monotonous sound of silence and torches crackling in their sconces. The only other noises are Wyn’s panting breath, his voice the only one that echoes in the chambers as he counts each strike.

He’s nearly there. He can do this.

Wyn chants that, over and over, inside of his head as the next strike lands. The word sticks in his throat, then “Nin-nineteen!”

The last one comes too soon. It feels a little harder than the ones that came before it; there’s definitely finality to it. That his lesson has been taught, his punishment earned, that it’s over. It does nothing to stop the trembling.

“Twenty!”

Silence hangs for several pressing moments.

Wyn is left to his racing pulse, breath scratching at his throat. Unconsciously, he clenches his rear and whimpers at the burn, the ache. It runs deep, to his spine, and he has to catch himself before he begins to grind himself helplessly against Magnai’s thigh like some wild creature in heat.

He feels painfully helpless, caught between conflicting urges. But he has to cling onto the fact that he has _orders_ and there are consequences if he does not follow them. This was just a demonstration. And Wyn isn’t sure if he can survive an encore performance.

Magnai’s hand gently massages his rear, hand callused but soft. And yet, it’s enough to have Wyn tense up, a moan caught in his throat as his entire body goes stiff.

“I’m not certain that I have made my point, Wyn,” Magnai murmurs. “I did warn you.”

Wyn nods his head, a little too frantically, “Y-yes… yes you did.”

“But you tested me.” He can hear the smirk in the words, “And I believe you did not expect the consequences.”

He shakes his head, still trembling as he tries to keep himself as still as possible. “I…”

Wyn lets out a sharp cry when Magnai’s hand clenches suddenly, sharp and hard, around one cheek. It hurts and he can _feel_ the pressure within him building. He’s so, so close… just a little more and he…

He’s flipped over, onto his front, still sprawled across Magnai’s clothed lap. He can _feel_ Magnai’s erection, through the heavy layers of fabric, digging into the small of his back, but stays as still as he’s able. The shock of cool air against his overheated skin is nearly enough to have him spilling right there.

But he doesn’t. And not through any strength of his own will.

Magnai’s hand is a firm circle around the base of his erection. It’s there only briefly, before something much firmer and cooler is wound around, pulled tight and Wyn can only gasp and arch up.

With his lip caught firmly between his teeth, Wyn chances a peek down. He can see his cock, straining against the leather strap that now binds it. And though he may be an innocent in many ways, he has enough of a sense of awareness to realize that release has been denied to him – will continue to be until Magnai is satisfied that he’s contrite enough.

Magnai’s words from earlier echo loudly in his ears. _“Someone needs to teach you a lesson in respect.”_

As though to prove his point, Magnai gives Wyn’s cock a firm stroke from root to tip.

Wyn wails, arching up. Had it not been for the leather bound about his erection so, he would have spilled right then. It’s too much, though, and his head spins. It’s a hard won battle to focus, to try and listen to what Magnai is saying.

“I will teach you to respect me,” Magnai says, pulling Wyn up into a sitting position by his bound hands. “When I am done, you will know that I want no one besides you, Wyn.”

Wyn nods his head dumbly, unable to find his voice, and swallows hard.

Magnai’s face is impassive, unreadable, and he tilts it to the side, as though contemplating something.

Then, slowly, he pulls Wyn’s bound hands down towards Magnai’s erection – still fully clothed.

“You have me ready to take you already,” Magnai murmurs, leaning in. His breath is hot against Wyn’s skin, lips nearly brushing his.

But there’s a hand on the back of Wyn’s neck, tangled in his hair and holding his head in place. He can’t chase those lips down, kiss him, surrender to him, as he so wants. He can only pant, voice a breathy mess as he speaks, “Pl… please… Magnai, I can’t…”

Magnai silences him with a finger over his lips, “No. You will endure.”

He makes a noise, strangled and deep in his throat. Wyn peers at Magnai questioningly, begging him as best he’s able without his voice to aide him. He nearly jumps out of his own skin, a scream lodged in his throat, when Magnai’s thumb brushes across the head of his cock.

“You will not entertain such thoughts of me and _Sadu–_ ” He spits her name out, as though it’s something foul, “–ever again. Much less give voice to them where others can hear.”

Wyn nods, holding his hands close to his chest. He’s shaking violently and _almost_ finds himself wishing that Magnai had gagged him as well. He can’t trust his mouth or the sounds that he makes.

But then Magnai’s fingers are smoothing along the length of his lips, tipping his head back so that he can kiss him. It’s soft, too sweet for the position that Magnai has Wyn in. And Wyn’s rear is screaming in protest, aching even against the cushion of Magnai’s thighs. He arches up, trying to alleviate the pain and pressure, but it does nothing.

A hand smooths down the length of his spine, curves around his rear and squeezes. Wyn cries out, his cock jerking against its restraints.

“This is what you desire, Wyn, is it not?” Magnai’s voice is a hard-edged taunt. “You want to feel my fingers inside of you, you want me to take you. Even as you ache and throb from your punishment. You want everyone to _know_ what I have done to you, do you not?”

Wyn’s nodding his head, even before Magnai’s finished speaking. He’s pressing down on that hand, the pressure too much and it _hurts_. Gloriously. He feels as though he may explode if Magnai doesn’t do something aside from tease him.

But when he opens his mouth to voice that, he receives a sharp smack to his already red and burning rear.

“The _only_ word you are to speak is my name.”

With wide eyes, Wyn nods his assent. Carefully, he shifts, letting Magnai manipulate him so that he’s straddling his lap. It puts a little stress on his rear, which stings harshly in protest at being treated so. But Wyn only whimpers, though he lets out a keening shriek of a noise when Magnai’s slick fingers begin to work into him.

“M-Magnai…”

His voice is breathless, hoarse, and he hardly recognizes it as his own as Magnai works him open. It’s too much, too soon, but Wyn doesn’t care as Magnai presses three – no, _four_ of those long fingers of his into him in preparation for his cock.

Every curl and brush of those fingers against that spot inside of him have Wyn wound tighter and tighter. His vision has begun to go white at the edges, his cock straining painfully between his thighs. His mouth hangs open, panting, as he can only breathe and whimper Magnai’s name.

He rocks in Magnai’s lap, trying to push those fingers in deeper, despite the pain and discomfort he _wants_. Oh how he _wants_.

Magnai’s voice rumbles through him, more purr than words, “How desperate you are for me to take you… I wonder, what would you do for me to do so? Should I make you wait? Or should I take my pleasure of you?”

“Magnai…” Wyn whimpers. He’s not sure how much more of this he can take. He feels as though if Magnai doesn’t take him, doesn’t fill him the way he’s so desperate for him to, that he will pass out. Already, his vision’s beginning to go dark at the edges. “M-Magnai.”

“I suppose I should take mercy on you,” Magnai murmurs, catching Wyn’s bottom lip with his teeth and tugging. “But next time, I will not be so merciful.”

All Wyn can do is tremble and nod.

He’s not entirely too sure how Magnai freed his cock from its confines in his clothes. And, to be honest, he’s beyond caring at that point. All he can do is loop his bound arms around Magnai’s neck and hold on as he begins pressing his cock into him.

Wyn is anxious to help the process along and pushes down, forcing more of Magnai into him. He hears a rough chuckle against his ear.

“My, but you are eager…”

Dimly, he wonders if that eagerness makes up for his inexperience. But that’s quickly lost to the rush of having Magnai inside of him. Absolutely nothing compares – not even his fingers – to the feeling of fullness he gets from _this_. How right, how _good_ it feels.

He’s only capable of rocking helplessly in Magnai’s lap, too weak with pleasure to do much else. Trembling, he clings to Magnai, trying to move but failing; his muscles have all turned into jelly.

There’s a tiny thread of guilt that runs through him. He’s making Magnai do all the work. This was supposed to be his punishment, so shouldn’t he be doing more?

But that thought is quickly lost.

It takes two thrusts for Wyn to realize that the leather about his cock’s been removed.

On the third, his vision goes white and he _screams_.

 

 

 

Wyn is only absently aware of warmth against his front, a hand resting on the small of his back. It takes more effort than it should for him to open his eyes.

“Are you alright?”

He blinks, then weakly tips his head back to meet Magnai’s eyes.

Magnai, who looks absolutely content, rather like a sated cat, and absolutely not like he had just spanked Wyn and taken him till he passed out.

In comparison, Wyn feels completely wrecked. His rear is still tingling. Although he’s stopped trembling, he feels weak and his limbs don’t respond when he tries to move.

“Did I… pass out?” His voice is weak, hoarse, and he’s surprised that he can even _talk_. Swallowing, his saliva rasps against it. He will be drinking warm milk tomorrow, he knows, to soothe that ache. And, he weakly clenches his rear and winces, he won’t be leaving bed either.

“You did,” Magnai responds.

He feels guilty, then, “But you – did you…?”

Magnai simply nods, with a little shrug, “It did not take long.”

“Oh.” He clears his throat, then says softly, “I’m sorry.”

“You need not be.” Magnai shifts, so that their faces are closer, and presses his forehead to Wyn’s. “You need not worry about my not being satisfied. You, Wyn, are more than I could have ever dreamed.”

He flushes, just a little, and smiles shyly back at him, “And you’re magnificent. I could not ask for more.”

Magnai runs a hand through his hair, presses a kiss to his forehead, “Sleep, my love.”

And he does.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Words:** 2527 words  
>  **Prompt:** "Shh, don't cry. It'll all be over soon. Now keep counting."
> 
> Oops. Look, I tripped and spilled my kinks all over. Too many of those prompts are now screaming at me. I'm lost. It's the end. Goodbye cruel world. This is all I can bring you. I'll... go repent for my sins, now. But feel free to come and poke me over on my [tumblr](http://graysonflynn.tumblr.com/) where you can poke me, my muses, and also request Quality Sin.


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